Sasha: Daughter of the Emerald Sea
by Sandwitch II
Summary: Revenge, plots, magic, decisions, gossip, mysteries, surprises, not necessarily in that order. Welcome to Corus Sasha!


**Third Times the Charm**

**In preparation for synchronized movement the leader will count, **_**one, two**_**. The three is essentially implied.**

Training Master Lord Padraig haMinch was a decision-maker. Black or white? Black. Warmed or chilled? Chilled. Take the next ridge or fall fback? Next ridge and quit lolling around we haven't got all day.

The man sat back in his chair pondering the letter before him, indecision was a strange sensation. He knew the terms of his contract, he knew his of predecessor's resignation, he knew the desires of his king and most importantly he knew that there were two very capable lady knights sharpening and polishing bloodletting swords in the close vicinity. But he paused reading over the short two paragraph letter before him. He straightened his black tunic and sipped his chilled wine to pass the time before he began to draft the letter that could affect his entire future.

The courier who answered the door breathlessly seconds after he rang the servant's bell had an eager look on his face. Padraig's expression was unreadable and the boy left, handling the letter like it was the Dominion Jewel. Within fifteen minutes of its commencement the letter was speeding towards the coastal rode and the small barony, Siren's Landing.

HaMinch had never fallen back in his entire life and he wasn't about to start now.

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The winds of gossip fanned the flames of curiosity all through the palace, Timon Greensdale ushered the lone ten-year old girl into the Training Master's office and closed the door glaring at all the speculative on-lookers. The slight girl had been followed by whisperers the second she reached the city with an indifferent man-at-arms. Pages and squires of all years lined the palace wall where the servant had left her in the care of Timon. A few were sympathetic in reaction to this cold treatment, the more vindictive ones called out jeers, she ignored both and set her eyes on Timon's back. Said eyes were dark brown and turned defensively black under the scrutiny, the curtain of wavy black hair shielded her from inquiring gazes.

The palace inhabitants reflected upon what they had just seen. Very little was known about young Sasha of Siren's Landing. She was orphaned at the age of nine by coastal raiding pirates, her aunt and uncle were now acting Baron and Baroness of the fief. The holding had never had anything to do with Court and as some of the older nobles reflected, hadn't turned out a knight in over two-hundred years, much less a female one.

The girl didn't have the stocky muscular structure of Lady Kel or the fiery passion of the Lioness, the general consensus was she didn't have much. They were disappointed.

The object of much conjecture sat quietly in the Training Master's office, as he talked Padraig compared her to the two living lady knights. Sasha clearly had the slight figure of the Lioness and the contemplative nature of Keladry. Her eyes however were all her own, they were dark pools that were trained solely on him. He silently wondered who was evaluating whom.

"Your uncle stated that you wield the Gift Sasha."

"Yes milord."

"Any magic in particular? Healing? The Sight?"

"General milord," Sasha paused looking at him through dark lashes, "often ocean."

HaMinch forced himself to meet her gaze, "This information will be passed along to your instructors to better your education within these walls, you will work as a page for four years studying the art of combat and educating yourself in the Code of Chivalry. Work hard and you may be chosen as a squire…" The speech continued, it was exactly like any other first meeting with the training master, Padraig was determined to treat this page like any other. Thayet had other plans.

As he wound down he added the part that Thayet had drilled into him on about twelve different occasions. "You will have a choice for formal uniforms, Queen Thayet took a personal interest in your matter and looked up the old traditions for female pages, her personal seamstress has replicated them for your use."

The girl didn't even respond to Thayet's name, all he got was an even, "Very well milord."

"Timon will show you to Lalasa then." Sasha rose from her chair, bowed respectfully and left the office.

In Lalasa's personal sewing room in the castle Sasha was fitted with a regulation page's training uniform and a soft red dress with a sleeveless golden tunic over robe and leather slippers. The sweet seamstress worked on both the fabric and to coax the small girl to speak. In the end the dress was perfect but the conversation was little more than pleasantries. Sasha left the room with a servant-girl and a bundle of practice clothes, the dresses would come later.

Once the door to the sewing room shut Lalasa left the altered dress on her work table and swept over to her storeroom. She pulled the door open and raised an eyebrow. Within the cramped space was the King's Champion on the lap of the King's Spymaster, quiet Sir Keladry of Mindelan, Sir Nealan of Queenscove and his beautiful Lady Yukimi.

"Well at least Thayet isn't in here with you," Lalasa said dryly letting the occupants out.

"A little bird tells me she'll know every word," Alanna responded in the same tone offering a finger to her husband's darking, Blackie.

"Of course."

"You're quiet," Yukimi told Neal as he draped a long arm around her waist.

"For once," George and Kel said together. The onetime-thief grinned down at his wife who raised an eyebrow. Kel smiled at Neal

Neal scowled at his friend, "See if I take pity on you when aunt and uncle come in the winter, Aunty Masbolle is just dying to meet you."

The group winced collectively, Neal looked smug.

"Meathead," Kel muttered.

"Are either of you going to talk with her?" Lalasa asked cutting off Neal's comeback.

Kel looked uncomfortable, the expression was mirrored in Alanna's visage.

George whistled softly, Alanna glared at him.

"The thing is," Kel started off hesitantly, "I don't think she needs it, she's not doing this for the realm."

"Or insanity," George quipped.

"She's not a fighter like you former Knight Mistress, I believe that is what Baron Cooper was implying," Neal said mildly eyes twinkling.

"I think we've established what she's not," Alanna replied sharply.

"Lalasa could y--," Daine Sarrasri Salmalin stopped in the door holding a tiny suit of formal wear for Rikash and looked quizzically at the group assembled in the small room. "A party that I wasn't invited to?"

"Lalasa was just fitting the new page," Yukimi told her.

Recognition dawned in Daine's eyes, "Numair believes that she has ocean magic."

"That makes sense, Siren's Landing isn't that far from the Swoop, plenty of magic in the Emerald Sea," Alanna confirmed, "Old families tend to have a trace."

Daine shook her head, "More than a trace, Numair scryed it on the Needle when she was still in Corus."

It was Alanna's turn to whistle and Neal's turn to raise a brow. George shrugged, "The Gift blocks the Sight for me."

The bell for noon tolled, "That's our cue gentle lady," George grandly proffered an arm for Alanna who took it mockingly, "Thom and Alan are meeting us in the city, time to worry about our own chicks for a while."

"We'll continue this talk soon," Neal promised walking with Yuki to the door.

"Soon," Kel echoed giving Lalasa a quick hug.

"Tell Dom to pick up his cloak from the city, it was finished a week ago," Lalasa told her.

"He's horrible about that."

"And so meticulous with his clothes, a man of contradiction."

"Yes," Kel replied. Lalasa had always known that Kel never blushed but she saw the faintest tinge of pink in the shell of her ear, the woman smiled wickedly at her old friend and was rewarded with a wash of crimson in Kel's cheeks.

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Considering the amount of speculation entertained at her expense the new page was virtually invisible to the inhabitants of the palace. Unlike her predecessors she had arrived a week and a half early to familiarize herself with the grandiose monstrosity and its bedlam capital city.

Sasha woke with the first bells on her third day in Corus. In breeches and with her hair tied up underneath a floppy cap she was sexless and therefore unremarkable. Walking by the other pages in her simple disguise she overheard jokes, rumors and plots. She'd been mistaken for a courier the day before and ran a message to Gareth the Younger in his personal study.

Turning on her reflection in the simple mirror afforded by the privy she steeled herself, ready to face one of her many fears about this strange life she had signed herself up for. A pale scared girl looked back at her, Sasha scowled adjusted her cap, marched out of the privy past her still-packed bags and raised the shutters on her window. She had yet to leave through her front door, it was still the pages wing after all, meeting them now without having all her bearings would be disastrous. It would also ruin her plots for them.

Slipping out of the small window was simple enough for a girl who spent half her time at home crawling through caves in the sea cliffs that lined Tortall's coasts. She landed with a catlike grace on her feet and wrestled the shutters closed.

The movements of another early riser's shutters had Sasha fleeing the courtyard, William of Darroch only glimpsed the bright blue of a floppy cap.

She picked her path carefully, deliberately avoiding the corridors that led to the dining commons, her meals were taken at odd hours and filched from unattended countertops, and it was all done in the name of anonymity.

In the outer palace grounds, outside of the palace proper she breathed a sigh of relief, almost no one was awake this early and if they were they minded the jobs they were paid to wake up for. A huntsman was busying himself in the kennels and the old groomsman, Stefan, was making his way to the royal stables. Sasha followed him surreptitiously, when he had closed the door in the office she slipped inside the stable's dark interior.

On the trip to the capital she'd gotten used to the smell and the general air of horses but she was a daughter of the Emerald Sea through and through. Buckles and harnesses baffled her where rigging and knots did not. Upon her arrival in Corus she found that she'd have to do more than get used to it, knights were compatible with their horses and she was a knight in training.

Spying the ladder to the stable loft she leapt to it and flew up the rungs just in time to hear Stefan reopening the office door and shuffling out to the stalls. Horses waffled his shoulder and nudged him when he passed, he whispered greetings and locked eyes with a few. The restless ones he laid a calm hand upon and they steadied.

Sasha nestled into the hay of the loft and watched as Stefan inspected his charges, starting from the one end he worked his way through each stall. If he saw a problem he inspected every inch of horseflesh with gentle calloused hands.

She was mesmerized by the soundless rhythm that the groom worked to, she could literally see the horses respond to the man's touch. Time passed as the painstaking inspection continued, the back of her mind processed the sound of the third, fifth and sixth half bells ringing. She watched some horses wait patiently others less so for the groom's attentions.

They were beautiful she realized in the breaking dawn, several of them were black as midnight while others sported white manes and tails. Silvery grays, blue-black stallions, she felt like she'd been treated to a private artist's workroom filled with hues and potentials.

The first thing she heard was the raucous sound of bird's wings in the loft as a large gray pigeon swooped in and settled in the hay fixing her with a beady stare. She jumped involuntarily and landed cat-like on the edge of the loft before she realized what she was doing.

The second thing she registered was the sound of horse's hooves on the wooden stable accompanied by the tramp of riding boots, she twisted around, lost her precarious footing and fell thrashing onto an unlucky hay bale. Luckily for her it broke the nasty fall.

Hay and dust spiraled down lazily in the dawn light coming to rest on her mortified frame, she looked up into the smiling turquoise eyes of the realm's nineteen-year old, charming Prince Liam. "Stefan," he began dryly, "Children are raining from your rafters again.

Red spots flamed in her cheeks, she rubbed at them self-consciously and discovered that her floppy cap had fallen off. Looking up she saw the traitorous piece of blue cloth in the hay.

Stefan shuffled over, "That one's afraid o' the horses highness," perhaps she hadn't been as stealthy as she'd have liked, "Wasn't doing any harm, just watching."

As if he'd heard the groom, the prince's horse, a large-boned gray gelding turned and fixed her with a piercing look, she shrank back. Liam settled a hand on the horse's flank, just as she'd seen all morning with Stefan and the stable's horses, the gelding lowered his gaze respectfully.

The prince offered her a hand which she hesitated before taking, once on her feet she belatedly realized that she should bow or curtsy to the youth. As dictated by her clothes she bowed, perhaps he wouldn't notice that she was _the girl_, aside from the first day she hadn't met anyone.

Coming up she studied one of the realm's controversies, the prince who apparently didn't do anything. He was most evidently his father's son with coal black hair, and firm chin. His eyes deviated from the standard depthless blue of Conte men, they held green and grey hues in different lights much like his namesake. The nose was inherited directly from his notorious grandfather Adigun jin Wilima through his mother, the cheekbones from his maternal grandmother, the most beautiful woman in the world. Overall it was a handsome face, the perfect mix of upper and lower Sarain and royal Tortallan.

She brought her eyes back to his and realized that her assessment was being returned equally. The prince grinned at her, Sasha didn't return the gesture.

"You're the new girl, I've seen you in--," he stopped realizing that the existence of darkings was a secret of the Tortallan spymaster, "the palace." He relinquished the reins of his horse to Stefan who took the gray into a stall.

She caught herself before she remarked upon the obvious stupidity of his statement, "Yes your Highness."

Liam sensed the slight condescension in her tone, "Do you make a habit out of perching in stable lofts page?"

"No, I just wanted to learn about horses," she started out hotly and finished ducking her head, "your Highness." Would he report her to the Training Master? She couldn't afford to be sent home.

Amusement colored his tone when he spoke, "You'll learn quite a bit about horses from watching Stefan," he signaled to the groom, "But you won't learn a thing about riding them."

Stefan returned with two mares, one as gray as the gelding with a large white patch on her left foreleg and another so black she shone blue in the stable's light. "You'll have to learn about grooming and tack first, these are Lianne's horses. Opal," the black, "Pearl," the gray.

Sasha stared at him astonished, "You--," she caught herself again, "Your Highness—"

"Would you kindly stop calling me that? Roald is the only one of us who lets courtiers get away with that and it's only because he thinks it's rude to correct strangers. My name is Liam."

"I know," she returned forcefully.

"Good, Stefan keeps the tack over there," he pointed to the racks of gleaming leatherwork.

"Liam."

"Yes, Sasha." He knew her name, she tucked that information away.

"This is all very kind but I'm sure you have better things to do than to teach me to ride."

"Was I mistaken?" he asked mildly, Stefan covered a grin, "Do you have some other expert horseman to teach you riding? Do tell."

"No, I don't."

"Then that's settled, my busy schedule should hardly keep you up at night."

She felt slightly overwhelmed, "Thank you."

"Tack," he pointed at the racks of leather once more and this time she obeyed.

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Sasha dragged herself onto her bed in the late afternoon thoroughly exhausted, head spinning with minute details about leather polish and hoof picks. Liam was a slave-driver, only after she was able to fully gear up Pearl to his and Stefan's satisfaction was she allowed to mount. Her feelings were mixed, the fear of such a large creature mixed with annoyance at his nitpicking. In the end she'd seen that the annoyance had overridden the initial fear, perhaps she would have to thank him after all. The ache in her thighs from riding to Corus had returned in full measure and she dreamed about cursing him instead. Her entire body was sore, but she had begun to master the correct posture that horseback riding required.

When noon struck Liam had ordered her to return the next day for further instruction and released her into a haze of bruises and light-headedness. She considered drowning herself in the baths and did fall asleep to the gentle lapping of water against the marble. Upon her return to her room in a lilac scented bathrobe, clothes under one arm she nearly concussed herself falling in through her window.

Nestled in the clean sheets of her bed the strength-sapping day seemed like a faraway dream recalled only by the pain of her bruises. _One heir of the realm down, four to go_ she thought bemusedly as sleep swept over her once more.

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The fourth day of her new palace life passed much like her third. Instead of five hours their lesson shrank to two but was no less excruciating. She napped and spent the rest of her time wandering the castle's libraries, halls, and rooms. The place reminded her of the sea cliffs absent the underground water falls and bat colonies.

The fifth day was in similar fashion, Liam proclaimed that she was competent, Stefan provided a rare grin at this. That day was spent wandering the palace gardens, herbal and ornamental. When she wandered into the mage's garden she noticed an impossibly tall man dressed in light cotton carrying a toddler on his shoulders, the child was picking fruits from the tops of a wizened old tree and bouncing on his father's shoulders. She turned away to study a patch of large swamp dwelling flowers, their odor was noxious capable, her old nanny said, of waking the dead.

The sensation of eyes on the back of her neck forced her to turn around again but the garden was empty, she could have sworn she heard the quiet laughter of a boy.

Her sixth day came with a real surprise, instead of Liam in the royal stables she found his fifteen-year old sister Lianne dressed in riding boots and breeches talking with Stefan.

"You're here, good, we can get started," Lianne spoke swiftly, looping the reins of an already-saddled Opal around her hands, "Liam had to be in the city this morning, we're taking a ride through the forest and we'll meet him down there."

Sasha blinked, bit back a question similar to the one she gave Liam and stated, "Yes your highness."

Lianne gave an unrepentant sigh, "My name is Lianne."

Sasha nodded and went to saddle Pearl.

They left the stable at a quick trot, Lianne like her mother was an excellent horsewoman. She held more of her mother's facial characteristics than her brother but her eyes were inherited directly from her father. Sasha knew the piercing blue Conte eyes were watching her as she fumbled with the reins or slouched in the saddle.

When they reached the edge of the forest Lianne took off with a whoop, alarmed Sasha gave Pearl the lead and she too was dragged into heart-stopping ride. They had abandoned the path and trees were whipping past them at an alarming rate, Sasha closed her eyes and put her trust in the grey horse, it was all she could do to stay on Pearl's back.

She cracked an eyelid when Pearl slowed to her original trot, she found herself crouched over the silky mane fingers clutching the rise of her saddle. Lianne was watching her with a smile, she burst into light-hearted laughter when she saw Sasha's eyes on hers.

"No more tests I promise," Lianne gasped out as Sasha looked on in incredulity.

The younger girl let out a sigh of relief, "Are you feeling alright?"

Lianne looked like she was about to return to full out laughter but she took a deep breath and stilled her features, "You're different, good different," the evaluating look disappeared from her expression, "There are very few people I know who would have followed me blindly."

"There are probably very few who would have had to, I just started riding days ago," Sasha admitted truthfully.

"Liam told me," her dry tone held humor and fondness for her elder sibling.

Sasha nodded and looked around the clearing they had arrived in, startled she found a perfectly calm pool of water, it resembled a plane of deep blue glass. Large boulder-esque rocks were scattered around the edge of the water, the trees that screened the pool grew thick and wide around it. For the first time since she had left the ocean she felt the familiar twitch of power in her fingers, this place held secrets, she was sure of it.

"Where are we?" she asked the older girl, sliding down from Pearl's back.

"Aunty Daine calls it the Undine Clearing, she said she saw one once but humans always scare them off."

Sasha looked back the way they had come, a faint line of hoof marks and footprints traced the barest path in the undergrowth. Undines, she closed her eyes to remember what Jayla had said, cousins of the mer-people. They were very secretive and held a love for mystery.

She found herself on a boulder over hanging the pool, she crouched on the edge and looked directly down into the depths.

Her hand reached out to graze the water, the moment her finger touched the surface another finger, unearthly blue, reached out to touch hers.

Just as quickly as it had come out it was drawn back, this time to a beautiful pixyish face, the finger touched the dark lips which quirked in a mischievous smile. In seconds the undine had vanished leaving Sasha in a trance.

Lianne, who had seen none of the exchange watched perplexed as Sasha rose from the rock poised to jump. In the last instance she faltered and regained control leaping down from the rock onto dry land.

"Are you alright?" Lianne returned the question with a raised brow.

"Yes—" the retelling of the encounter was on the tip of her tongue before she drew it back remembering the gesture of secrecy, "This place is enchanting."

"It is that," Lianne let the moment go, she was well-versed in the ways of evasive answers, "We have to be in Corus a bell before noon, Liam has a surprise for us."

Sasha smiled and remounted. The rest of their journey was continued at an efficient trot and was filled with stories about Lianne's older brothers and sister.

"I want you to form an unbiased opinion about Jasson, you'll have at least two years to do that," she told Sasha laughingly. The girl soaked in the stories about places she'd never dream about seeing filled with genuinely real people, she also appreciated the effort Lianne was going to for friendship and returned the favor.

In the city they found Liam at the gates, he and his sister's playful banter followed them into streets less traveled as Sasha listened. She found herself on a clean quiet street before a brightly stitched sign, _Steel Silk_. The younger girl looked inquisitively at the older two, Lianne only offered an ambiguous smile.

The trio dismounted and handed their reins to a servant who appeared in the threshold. The interior of the shop was cool and lit softly by white witch-lights. Sasha was surprised to find the seamstress from her page fitting sitting in the corner. The woman rose and smiled, "Lianne, you didn't tell me you'd be bringing a visitor to your fitting."

"I cleared it with the rogue this morning, Sasha's allowed," Liam assured the woman.

Sasha shot him an inquisitive look, she'd heard of the rogue, in the least reputable tavern in Siren's Landing! A prince who consorted with thieves? She kept the surprise from her face, she was curious.

"Sasha," Lalasa smiled warmly at her, "your dress is nearly done, it will be ready for you by the time training starts."

"Thank you," Sasha thought regretfully back to her guarded behavior at the fitting, she smiled tentatively back at the older woman.

Lalasa's own smile widened, "I daresay you've got a lot to do, I won't waste your time then."

"Thanks Lalasa."

"One of these days your mother's fittings are going to coincide with 'yours'."

Lianne laughed and blew a kiss, "Until then," she grabbed Sasha's hand and led her to the back. Liam had already disappeared out a door. Lianne began to strip off the perfectly coiffed riding outfit and pulled on a light blue pair of breeches and short white tunic, she kept the boots and straightened the city apparel.

"You see," the princess in plain clothes explained, "A fitting is a perfectly good excuse for the daughter of Thayet the Peerless to visit the city, the Dancing Dove is not." The girl pushed open the store's back door and pulled her hair out of its immaculate ties to reveal Liam standing in the alleyway. Sasha smiled, genuinely excited, and took one of Liam's offered arms, Lianne took the other.

The Dove was something else entirely, smoky atmosphere, surprisingly cleaner than she expected. There were a thousand things to see beyond the regular to and fro of an inn.

A woman, Sasha guessed seventeen or eighteen, appeared in front of Liam, Lianne gave Sasha a nod to leave the two alone and they departed into the depths of the tavern.

Lianne introduced her to a myriad of people, Sasha was positive that sixty percent of them were on the left side of the Provost's law. One made an impression, he sat with his back to a wall chair perched on two legs. As far as she could tell there wasn't a single blade on him and she was practiced at finding them, it was rare to find someone in the less fortunate side of town to walk unarmed and unafraid.

He was young as well, thirteen maybe, young for the rogue's life and the world-weary attitude he exuded. His muddy green eyes found her dark ones studying him, he nodded at her but Lianne pulled her in another direction.

"He's new in Court," Lianne whispered, not looking back at the boy they'd left behind, "rumor says he was kicked out of Shang."

"Who's Rumor?" Sasha shot back.

"The rogue, if you must know," Lianne replied grimly, "calls him the Shang Theif."

"Why that? What's his real name?"

"Because he stole the secrets of Shang and Corinth."

"Oh," she wasn't at all satisfied, more intrigued, she looked back but the Shang Thief was gone.

Liam was in a corner engaging in a heavy flirting session with the woman who'd taken him away at the door. "Who's she?"

"Whoever she wants to be," Lianne answered ambiguously, "Commonly known as Cole. But she was named after my sister."

"Kalasin," Sasha considered the more romantic activities the two were engaged in, "that's ironic," she offered.

"It would have been weird if he knew who she really was before they started that," Lianne remarked gesturing to the couple before sitting down on a sofa.

"Who is she really?" Sasha asked joining her.

"You'll have to decide that for yourself."

The rest of the evening passed leisurely, a serving girl provided lunch which Liam paid for when he dragged his girlfriend over to their nook. She spent the time relaxing and listening with Liam, Lianne, and Cole-Kalasin.

Thieves, both male and female , graced their table from time to time. She saw Corinth whisper a few words to Cole before disappearing into the din.

Her day felt complete when she left the inn still contemplating some of the mysteries she'd come across. The one surrounding Corinth would have to wait, Lianne hadn't offered any further information. The one surrounding Cole had broken down in the time she'd spent with the woman, among her people, the way Corinth had deferred to her, it was apparent.

"She's the rogue," Sasha whispered disbelief still staining her voice, "she's the King of Theives."

And for the second time that day Lianne burst into laughter.

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Her eighth day in the palace dawned bright and clear, unbidden excitement trilled through her veins. Sasha reached the stables in record time and was rewarded with the sight of Stefan leading a beautiful dappled gray mare around the side of the building.

Tension and excitement drained out of her like sand fisted in a palm, she gazed almost mournfully at the horse.

Liam flashed a smile for the awe-struck expression, "The pages' horses came last night, Stefan picked her out. She's yours."

"Of course," she said matter-of-factly regaining her composure and approaching the gorgeous beast almost reverently

"What will ye' name her lass?" curiosity was evident in Stefan's voice.

"Spirit glow," she whispered inaudibly, then reigned in her emotions once more, "Glow, shell be Glow."

"Saddle her up then, we'll be outside." Sasha knew that was code for _we'll be outside talking about you_, but she didn't care.

"Spirit glow is what sailors call the souls of their loved ones who pass at sea," Stefan muttered to Liam, "they say that there's a white glow on the water in deep ocean."

"But her parents didn't die at sea," the prince returned quietly.

"'s unnatural," the groom agreed making the sign of the gods on his chest. Liam didn't copy the act, just as well because Sasha returned a moment later leading a perfectly saddled Glow.

"That was quick."

"Mhmm," she murmured not taking her eyes off the horse, her horse. The horse was similarly enraptured, she had yet to take her eyes off her mistress, "Thank you Stefan."

"We'll begin then. Mount up page."

Sasha grinned and swung herself nimbly into the saddle.

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The ninth evening of her life in the palace saw her slipping in the window of her room only to hear a suspicious scratching at the locked main door. More confident than she had felt at the beginning she strode over to the door and yanked it open to reveal a ten year old and a disappearing set of lock-picks.

A quick once-over revealed little more than a short-statured boy watching her curiously through light brown eyes and dark brown bangs, under one arm she recognized her pages' serving uniform and the other balanced a set of books.

"Servants usually have keys," she pointed out coldly.

"I'm not a servant," he corrected stiffly, "I'm William," and added as an afterthought, "of Darroch."

"Why are breaking into my room William?"

" It's Will actually, and I brought these," he held up his peace offering, "your uniform from Lalasa and the books for your lessons. We were given them at supper, but you weren't there." He tried to take a look over her shoulder.

She relented and opened the door to him, he walked in and studied the packed trunks on her floor, "Are you leaving?"

"You really don't know then?" she sounded just as perplexed as he did, "but your brother…"

"You know my brother?"

"I heard him, and his friends talking on my first day," she started hesitantly, "they're planning on ruining my room tonight so the training master will send me home tomorrow at inspection." She busied herself with the sack she'd brought in with her, the product of her daily castle wanderings, she drew out a simple ceramic vase and set it on a night table dragged into the center of the room.

"Oh," Will sat down heavily on her bed, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," her voice was as cold as earlier, "It's best we get this out of the way now." She took the books and the uniform, shoved them into her trunk and closed it with a snap of the buckles.

"I want to help you," he declared suddenly getting up from the bed.

She looked him over about to tell him to leave, "You could get into trouble."

"I'm sure you've planned for that," he grinned at her, Sasha found herself smiling back.

"We're going to need two magically sealed wraps, I haven't found those yet."

"No problem," he scuffed his toe against the floor, "what's the plan?"

Her smile turned conspiratorial, "It goes like this—"

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Will's room was four doors down the hall from hers and she slipped into seconds after the bells tolled the eleventh hour. He sat in the darkness, leaning against her trunks which she had moved into his rooms for the night.

"Did you breathe any of it in?"

"No," she replied sinking to her feet against the door, "I've been holding my breath underwater since I was two, that was a piece of cake."

"Wouldn't want you falling asleep in the middle of it."

"No worries."

Their plan was elegantly simple, leave a blooming dreamflower in her empty room for the ambush party, decorate the rooms of the ambushers, slip back into her room with a potent wakeflower at first bell and watch the mayhem that ensued.

"Let's split up the supplies."

"Good idea."

Will dug a sack out of his dresser and Sasha began to divvy up the decorations, they each got an equal share of soap, chalk, pre-ripped parchment (confetti), and bandages. Sasha took the bundle of lacy lingerie, pilfered from the castle laundry especially for the ringleader of the wreckers, Richard of Groten.

Sasha put her ear to the door when the bell tolled midnight, Will's information was good, the sound of six boys trying to be quiet reached her ears and she grinned, she waited exactly ten minutes before placing her hand on the door handle.

"Sasha," Will whispered holding out his hand, she grasped it firmly and nodded to him before slipping out the door once more. Her first stop was her own room, she heard snores. A light touch of blue-green power to her door's lock sealed it, no one would be able to open it from the inside. She grinned and continued on her merry way.

Halfway through hanging bandages on her second room she heard the door open, close and the sound of a match being struck. It was two a.m. ! She'd sealed the door! She could feel her heart slamming in her chest as the second intruder brought the matchlight to his candle.

They stood a foot apart in the once dark room, she found herself face to face with the second pair of deep blue Conte eyes she'd seen in her life, her heart skipped a beat.

Surprise flashed through his eyes which then took in his surroundings, "You're not Charlie."

"I'm not Charlie," she agreed and searched for the right word, "he's indisposed."

"Clearly," amusement sparkled in his clear eyes, Jasson of Conte was the spitting image of his father. The prince bowed, blew out the candle and left the room.

Her heart rhythm returned to normal, she sank to the floor, grateful not to have been caught and slightly stunned to have met the youngest heir to the throne in such an unconventional manner. Although, falling out of a stable loft to meet Liam had also been a bit unusual.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoo

Dawn's light found her curled on the sofa in William's room, the gentle tolling of the first bell called her from sleep. She stretched and looked over at Will in bed, who was also waking up. They looked at each other and grinned, she raised an eyebrow and his smile widened. If everything else failed at least she'd made a friend. He padded over to the pile of supplies they had left in a pile on his floor and retrieved a long unopened tube of magically sealed cloth.

Bowing he presented it to her on the sofa, she took it, yawned softly and nodded. They fished out the other tube, used to carry the dreamflower and she took both to the door.

"'Luck," he murmured sleepily and climbed back into bed.

"Thanks," she returned quietly.

Once in the hallway she practiced a breathing exercise before removing the magic on the door and taking in a minute-and-a-half long breath. Inside the room boys littered the floor, were draped on chairs, one was slumped half-on-half-off her simple bed.

The dreamflower bloomed innocently in the center of the room, she undid the ties on the wakeflower tube and swapped the flowers. She held the dreamflower up to counteract the effects of its cousin until she reached the door at which time she shoved it into its tube and shot out the door.

Back in Will's room she listened to the sound of six boys waking from enforced sleep. Groans of disgust at the odor of the wakeflower could be heard along with the smashing sound of ceramic hitting the floor. Sasha winced glad that she and Will had already stripped her rooms of sheets, soap, and other destroyable objects.

When she heard the door of her room open she opened Will's door to face the product of her night's work. The first boy who came out just rolled his eyes, the second, she recognized as Charlie, grinned and shook her hand, Richard glared, and the rest barely noticed her as they stumbled out.

She thanked Wavewalker that she'd only half finished Charlie's room after the prince had scared her. A grin spread over her face at the thought of the lingerie adorning Richard's room. She was curious as to what Will had done in his brother's room but she wasn't daft enough to go look.

Waking Will up again they dragged her stuff back into her room, she locked the door and began to set it up for the first time. Clothes transferred from her trunk to the dresser, her father's belt-knife hidden underneath, the small bewitched rock waterfall took its rightful place on her nightstand, the gnarled piece of lightning sand was centered on her dresser and her worn blue quilt was tucked neatly around the mattress. Her chores were performed to the sound of moans coming from the rooms on either side of her, she grinned savagely. Only after each of these things had been completed did she retrieve the warm water from the pages' wing servant and begin her first day as a page in training.

And so began the palace life of Sasha of Siren's Landing, the third female page in over a century.


End file.
